Page 61 of Slayer

Foster kid problems.

“I won the lottery!” I blurted out.

Her eyebrows shot up, skepticism written all over her face.

What was I doing? These lies didn’t even line up anymore.

“What? You expect me to believe⁠—”

I pulled out the ten-grand stack and handed it to her. “I won five million, and this is for you to leave and go to Paris. I have a real estate agent waiting there to show you apartments.”

She stood there frozen for a whole thirty seconds.

“Holy crap, Stella.” Her eyes locked on the money. “I can’t take that.”

“Yes, you can.” I pushed it toward her.

She hesitated and then grinned. “Okay, maybe I can.” She hugged it to her chest. “Why cash? This feels like drug money.”

I laughed, the sound brittle. “I promise it’s not drug money. I needed to get it to you quick because I’m leaving…”

“For New York?” she asked. “To model?” She sounded unconvinced.

“Yeah. I gotta get my stuff. Our plane leaves in a few hours.” I rocked on my heels, suddenly unsure how to say goodbye.

Rae softened, stepping closer. “Are you in trouble, Stella?”

“No,” I lied. I wasn’t exactly, but I was drowning in things I didn’t understand.

“You have to leave now? Why can’t I meet this guy?” She eyed the doorway like she expected him to materialize.

The guy. Right. The model scout. “He’s busy.”

“Stella, this all sounds like total crap. You know that, right?”

Emotion slammed into me then, fast and overwhelming. I knew this was the last time I’d see her.

I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her. She clutched me back like I might disappear. “I’ll never forget how you stuck up for me in the group home when Penny called me an annoying brat,” I told her. “I’ll never forget your inventive kitchen creations or the way you reached out, knowing I was going to age out and offering me a place to stay. I’ll never forget you, Rae.”

I didn’t have a family.

I had Rae.

I had Linda.

That was it.

Her chest rattled with a sob. “Stella. Are you saying goodbye?”

She held on to me like a lifeline as tears burned behind my eyes. After a moment, I pulled back, cleared my throat, and wiped my face.

“I gotta go.” I grabbed my duffel bag from the couch. “But you better book that flight to Paris. My real estate agent is waiting to show you properties.”

“This is crazy! The lottery?” She looked at the money in her hand.

I smiled, committing her face to memory. “You deserve it. Au revoir.”

“Au revoir,” she said softly, frowning.